


Two Worlds Colliding

by JillAndJackalope, RigorMorton



Category: Gobblepot - Fandom, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Blood, Boys Kissing, Cheating Jim, Eventual Smut, Forgiveness, M/M, Making Up, Male Slash, Men Crying, Oswald In Jail, gobblepot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:23:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5767651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JillAndJackalope/pseuds/JillAndJackalope, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RigorMorton/pseuds/RigorMorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened between Jim and Oz after the events of Season 2, Episode 11 ("Worse Than a Crime" — the mid-season finale).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Worlds Colliding

**Author's Note:**

> An RP, starring the fabulous Ms. RigorMorton as Jim (you have been such a joy to work with on this!), and the also pretty good JillAndJackalope as Oz (this is my first RP)! 
> 
> We may add more to the story, so please keep watch over the tags and the rating as they may change!

Oswald Cobblepot sat alone in a very dank and very public holding cell. Moments ago, he had not been alone, but his cellmate had chosen to remind the King of Gotham of his current location in an unpleasant way, and today of all days he shouldn’t have done that. Oswald seethed at the body on the floor, whose face was bloodied in a vertical line where the bars of the cage had introduced themselves to him. The blood reminded him of Galavan.

A few hours ago, he had beaten Theo Galavan nearly to death, pouring the loss of every future happy moment with his mother into punishing the man who stole them away. Who stole HER away. But Jim gently pushed Oswald back, and he allowed it, having seen the vengeful fire in Jim’s eyes not minutes ago. They would share in this. They had shared in so much already, and while stubborn Jim kept him at arm’s length, he cared. The gentleness he showed now was clear, even though he didn’t take his eyes off his target. When Jim shot Galavan, Oswald had to use all of his restraint to not kiss Jim’s hand, holding the still-smoking gun, professing all the love and reverence he felt. But Jim had to go. He had to go be with a living soon-to-be mother. Jim didn’t turn around, didn’t say anything — he just left. In the back of his mind, Oswald was resigned to Jim being like this sometimes, but he was almost entirely focused on Galavan again.

The umbrella made an undignified and satisfying squelch as it went down that disgraceful creature’s throat.

Oswald took a moment to admire his handiwork, fury and delight dancing across his face. It was a moment too much. 

Three GCPD cruisers appeared, and after a frenzied struggle, Oswald had ended up in the very center of the headquarters building, humiliated in a public holding cell that smelled vaguely of mildew, sweat, and piss. Well, he had planned to have the coat cleaned soon anyway.

After all he had been through recently, let alone since he first met Jim… after all THEY had been through… had Jim ratted him out? The cops had found him so quickly, and since his disappearance, the majority of the GCPD had found other hands to feed them, so he couldn’t order or bribe anyone. Even without the gun, or any residue on his gloves (which he prayed Ed would make a strong point about), he was still at the scene, with most of the evidence. A small part of him still held out hope that it had all just been a coincidence, so he left Jim out of his description of the evening. After all, what are friends for?

Jim reclined in his chair - feet up on his desk, twiddling a pencil in his hand as his mind wandered in what seemed like ten different directions. He had so much on his mind, and they weren’t little things either.

He had just learned hours prior that he was a soon to be father and that alone was enough to keep his mind occupied, but the fact that he’d just murdered Theo Galavan should’ve been what weighed heaviest on his mind, but no… it was that he’d betrayed someone…someone important to him…someone that he didn’t even realize was important to him, till just now.  
How could he? Oswald trusted him. He did what he thought was best for his future family. Jim just wanted a fresh start - to stop behaving like the corrupt officers he hated so much.  
He hadn’t been very fond of himself lately, but he didn’t realize how much worse he’d feel after betraying Oswald - a man that himself, was certainly not the epitome of morality, but who did indeed consider Jim a friend, an ally, someone he could rely on.  
It made the detective sick to his stomach to think about. What had he become? This was certainly not the way he wanted to start off his new life either. He had to see Oswald.  
Jim quickly stood up from his chair, and made his way to the holding tank, where Oswald sat alone, pouting, with this strange mix of anger and sadness on his face. If Jim didn’t feel badly about his poor decision already, he certainly did now.  
Suddenly it hit the detective that Ozzy had a cell mate…so what happened to him? As he walked up closer to the holding cell, he found the other man alright… Sprawled out on the floor, a small pool of blood forming by the side of his face, where his bleeding nose had dribbled down to the floor.  
“Shit!” The detective huffed, and ran to the cell, shaking his head. “Damn it Oswald! What the hell did you do?”

Oswald jumped a bit at the voice he wanted to hear least and most. He took a small breath and tried to address Jim with some composure. 

“Good morning, Jim. Oh, this fellow?” He gestured at the body as casually as if he were offering Jim a seat. “We exchanged un-pleasantries, and I defended myself. Shouldn’t add much to the charges against me, should it, old friend?” He smiled sweetly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. They shone with something sharper.

He hadn’t meant to give Jim a hard time about the past evening. He had thought he’d been resigned to the turn of events. After sharing in something as intimate as murder, though, and seeing Jim now… Whether he had betrayed him or not, the betrayal felt real. The part of Oswald that needed to stand up for himself started edging through, followed close behind by the part that believed the only way he could get people to spend time with him was to pay them somehow or to manipulate them into owing him something. But he couldn’t start the cycle all over again, when Jim had to go be a father. But he’d been betrayed. By Jim! Even if he had to push him away entirely now, he’d make sure Jim clearly saw what he’d done to his… friend?

“I’m surprised to see you at work today, Jim. Not riding off into the sunset just yet?”

Jim sighed, hanging his head down low, not exactly sure what he should do. Should he call a bus for the convict bleeding on the floor? Should he try and explain himself to Oswald first? What could he say? God, what a grave mistake the detective had made.

Jim scooted a chair up to the bars of Oswald’s cell, and sat down. “Oswald…” he started before pausing, trying to think of the right thing to say, even though there really wasn’t one. “I’m sorry… so, so sorry. I… I don’t know what I was thinking. I was too hasty…I panicked. I really am your friend. Maybe I didn’t realize it till just a few moments ago, but I realize it now, and I’ve never hated myself more.” Jim’s words were said with heavy breaths as his chest heaved, feeling overwhelmed with panic, grief, and most of all, regret.

Oswald was stunned. He wanted to believe him. But was this still just part of the betrayal, like some schoolyard prank? Kicking him while he was down? But Jim was never so… open. And he seemed wholeheartedly sincere. Jim was saying what he had always wanted to hear him say… well, some of it, anyway. His detective was already hurting too, and didn’t need anyone’s help with that. But was he really? Oswald’s inner conflict danced across his wide eyes, as he clenched his jaw and took a few steadying breaths. After a moment, he addressed his… friend.

“Jim. I… want to trust you again.” He almost couldn’t believe what he was saying. But this was Jim, and he just needed to be his friend right now. To be fair, though, Jim needed to fix this if he really wanted forgiveness for it. Mother always said that an apology should go hand-in-hand with the efforts to right the wrong. Shoving aside the still-painful image of his mother for now, Oswald stood and walked unevenly, over the body on the floor, to the wall of bars, stopping just a few feet from Jim. 

He gestured at the enclosure around him, saying, “That might prove a bit easier on the other side of these bars.” He softened his words a bit with a playful smile. 

Jim was too upset with himself to smile back. Although he was relieved to see that there was hope of mending his friendship with the King of Gotham, seeing Oswald being so kind, so willing to forgive him, made him feel worse — made him realize how much his friendship truly meant to Oswald. That he’d be willing to look past something so deplorable, just to keep Jim in his life.

The detective felt a lump in his throat — felt a slightly wet warmth forming in his eyes. Jim Gordon was tearing up… not something that happened very often. No heavy tears. No bawling, just a few little drops, along with some sniffles, but still more than Gotham’s finest had cried in years.

Jim looked up, at his friend, able to make eye contact for the first time since killing Galavan, and swallowed hard, letting out a long exhale before he slowly reached his arm out, through the bars as far as he could reach, paying no mind to the cold metal sliding down his flesh as his arm slid through.

All the detective could get out of his swelling throat was.. “Ozzy…”

The King of Gotham’s eyes fluttered in surprise, his mouth slightly agape. There was no way James Gordon could produce crocodile tears — he MUST mean what he’d said! And that gentle, sudden nickname… was this how Jim referred to him in his mind? What an endearing thought! And the name was rather… cute! No, better to not get his hopes up. He would still be overjoyed to have Jim in his life as a friend, and he would gladly take what he could get. 

Oswald realized he had been getting lost in Jim’s big, wet, blue eyes, and averted his gaze to the strong hand extended to him, pleading, sleeve riding up to reveal hints of muscled arm underneath. As if that were any better than the eyes. 

Oswald rubbed his bare fingers together absentmindedly, remembering that his gloves were being examined by the forensics team. Could he trust himself not to get carried away if he touched Jim skin-to-skin right now?

He looked back up into Jim’s eyes, held his breath, and before he could stop himself, began to slowly reach out his hand.

Jim allowed a small, closed mouth smile to cross his face, as his hand met Oswald’s — their palms meeting up, pressing against each other before, their fingers curled — intertwining with one another.

Oswald’s hand was surprisingly warm, for how cold it was in that holding tank, and Ozzy being minus his gloves.

Neither one spoke a word — just sat in silence, looking at one another, squeezing each other’s hands tightly. Having a… moment if you will.

Jim gulped, a strange feeling coming over him. He wasn’t sure what to call it, or how to explain it. All he knew was that he felt good — warm, a little fuzzy…happy.

Oswald was positively buzzing as he smiled softly in return. There were few times in his life he had felt so elated — Jim was smiling at him! He was holding his hand! Jim’s powerful, very warm grasp seemed to curl protectively around his own. His nerves were on fire from his fingertips, up his arm and neck, making his hair stand on end and his mouth tingle. He had to do something before he could think too much about it.

Staring into Jim’s eyes, Oswald moved closer, and with his free hand he touched the side of Jim’s face, gently wiping a hot tear away with his thumb. He smiled affectionately at how Jim cared, and felt even more blood rushing to his mouth. He moved still closer, and pulled Jim nearer to the bars by their clasped hands. Tearing his gaze from Jim’s, his eyes landed on Jim’s lips, and he felt his nose and cheeks begin to blush. In a rush of instinct and impulse, he closed the gap between them, his mouth forceful but soft against Jim’s, kissing him with feverish joy, worship, and the hunger of a starving man. The bars didn’t allow for much movement, but Oswald was determined to make the most of what might be his only chance to kiss Jim Gordon. 

The handsome blonde was shocked to feel the other man’s lips on his. He kept his eyes open for a moment, surprised and caught completely off guard by the raven haired man’s bold move.

He soon realized he wasn’t hating it… wasn’t even disliking it… possibly even enjoying it. The Penguin’s lips were surprisingly soft. His touch was warm and caring, despite Oswald’s reputation for being a sociopath. 

Other than the death of Gertrud, Jim had never really seen Oswald show any real emotion. Was the King of Gotham not as cold and ruthless as everyone believed him to be? It sure didn’t feel like it, right now.

Jim tilted his head a little more to the right, allowing better access. He pressed his face in a little closer — the cold metal making the side of his face twinge. The detective paid the smell and cold sting of the iron no mind, as he carefully parted his lips — his tongue making a slow departure from them, penetrating the other man’s smile.

If he had been thinking clearly, Oswald would not have believed that he was feeling Jim’s tongue, so it was a good thing that all rational thought had fled from him at the moment. 

He made a small, helpless noise and eagerly opened his mouth, tilting his head back a little and to the side, surrendering himself to the hot wet muscle invading him. His jaw touched the cold bars, but he barely noticed — Jim was a furnace. Oswald sighed blissfully through his nose as he massaged Jim’s roving tongue with his own, nipping here and there, always strong and passionate, but always deferring to Jim. His breathing grew heavier, his head grew dizzy, and he felt like he was flying. 

Jim let out a long, comfortable sigh — feeling the warmth of his own breath rise up from Ozzy’s upper lip, tickling his. A soft, muffled moan, slipped from his lips as his other hand slid through the bars and pressed against the back of the other man’s head, pulling him in tighter — their lips pressing harder together — the kiss roughening — both men’s breathing becoming harder, more audible.

Oswald whimpered when he felt Jim’s hand in his hair, and growled when that hand pulled him in closer. Jim wanted him! Oswald couldn’t get enough of his detective and met Jim’s force with his own ravenous press forward, inward — the kiss was an unbridled, desperate thing now, and the hand that had been on Jim’s face now held onto his shoulder for dear life. He scraped his teeth on every surface in Jim’s mouth he could reach, and thrashed his tongue with renewed purpose, giving as good as he got. All he could hear was his own frantic breathing… until he lunged forward and heard and felt the bar collide with his forehead.

He pulled back, kept his eyes closed, and took a deep, steadying breath through his nose. It was more the frustration than the pain that got to him. He opened his eyes slowly, offering Jim an apologetic look. “I am truly sorry, Jim. Usually I’m much better about keeping track of my surroundings.”

The detective gave a nervous smile, and touched his two fingers to his lips, before giving them a quick lick — the taste of the dark haired man, still on them.

Jim was trying to wrap his head around what just happened… He just shared a kiss with someone other than his pregnant girlfriend — a man… and not just any man, but The Penguin — the King of Gotham — a dangerous man — a criminal, and the thing that disturbed Jim the most about that, was that he enjoyed it. Emotionally, as well as physically.

The detective’s list of problems was already a long one. Now it looked like good ole Jimmy had another one to add to the list.

Oswald sucked his lower lip into his mouth at the sight of Jim licking his fingers, even if only for a moment. He could still taste the detective’s mouth on his own, and had no regrets… but he could see something on Jim’s face that wasn’t quite regret, but a distressed confusion. Oswald then felt bad for putting Jim in this position, but if nothing else, at least they’d both have fond memories of the kiss itself. He hoped. Jim had seemed to enjoy it too. Not to mention that anyone who witnessed their… exchange… be they a cop, or a criminal in an adjacent holding cell, they’d think the two were some kind of power couple, strong forces from opposing worlds, now united, and not to be trifled with. Even if they were never able to touch each other again, to never be more than outwardly friends, at least he had given Jim a little security… and his growing family, too. That had to count for something.

The King of Gotham’s pale eyes examined Detective Gordon’s deeper blue ones with affection and curiosity, wheels turning on both sides. What now?

**Author's Note:**

> Oz is fine — that was barely even a bump, he just got startled; don't worry!
> 
> Also the title is inspired by INXS's "Never Tear Us Apart" (Ms. RigorMorton's idea), and the terrible pun for this chapter title is not going to be apologized for by JillAndJackalope.


End file.
